The Selected
by Jessica North
Summary: The Selection. A glorious production, everything timed perfectly, everything done perfectly. All you see is the glitz and the glam, the beauty and the purity and the lovey dovey stuff. But behind the scenes, and intricate matter takes place. Organized chaos. But with danger looming over head, and one bad decision after another, that chaos is about to become less organized.
1. Chapter 1: Crash

**This is an SYOC, but it's closed. However, the story's pretty dang awesome (maybe) so maybe you should read it! Or not I'm sorry please don; hate me.**

**I do have a main OC in this, a Six named Isis Elliot who works as a maid in the palace. She's not part of the Selection, but she has a secret and is vital to the Selection. And no, getting her as your maid does not guarantee anything.**

**By the way, this story is non-canon, AU, just the storyline so no other characters besides OCs are in it.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Prince Beckham was flummoxed.

Flummoxed. Scared was a tad extreme, estranged didn't really fit, and confused didn't even begin to cover it. So, flummoxed was the only way to go in his situation.

It wasn't Beckham's fault he was flummoxed. No, it was his sister, Camille's fault. Camille was the reasoning to Beckham's flummoxed...ness.

"They're all going to be so pretty, I'll bet, and sweet and kind and talented," Camille said, dancing around the room. "You'll have to be so proper at first. Oh, you'll never be able to pick, they'll all be so perfect!"

Beckham had paled at his little sister's words. "Really?"

Camille frowned. "No, of course not," she said, tucking a strand of her chocolate brown hair behind her ear. "You'll know when a girl is right for you. She'll stand out and show you how perfect she is for you."

"Oh," Beckham nodded, shifting over in his seat. The round couch he was sitting on was uncomfortable, and he really wanted to move, but he thought it would be rude. "Okay."

Camille rolled her eyes. "Beckham, you dunce. What if you send her home? What if you don't think it will work and you just send her back to wherever she came from on a whim? You can't bring her back you know!" Camille leaned in close. "This is serious. You need to focus."

"Camille, I get it okay? It will be hard? I will make mistakes. I will probably end up with the most rotten one," Beckham said. He rested his chin on his Han and his elbow on his knee.

Camille looked confused. "Oh, Beckham, you'll see her. When she walks in you'll see her and know that she is the one!" Camille squealed in delight and began to dance around the room again.

Beckham leaned back in his seat, again trying to get comfortable in the hard chair. He was satisfied with Camille's answer, for now.

"Unless she's putting on a front," Camille called out. "And she's really very rotten!"

Beckham stood up quickly. "I give up Camille. I officially give up. I am totally and completely out of luck in this. I will not win. But I will find the perfect girl," Beckham said, putting his hands up in defense. Camille, who had stopped dancing, looked amused. "Happy? I don't need any more advice."

Camille snorted. "Your loss."

Beckham turned and exited the room, Camille laughing behind him. He turned a corner and slowly wondered down it, not really seeking out a destination. He was thinking. After all, he'd turned twenty not even two weeks ago. Beckham though he'd be more at twenty, more to his mother, more to his father, more to Illea. He thought his time would be spent on important things, solving problems, winning wars. But instead, he'd just spent an hour and a half listening to his sixteen year old sister confuse him.

And the Selection, oh the Selection. Thirty-five beautiful girls shipped to his home, and he'd have unlimited time to choose one to be his queen. But Camille's word nipped at him. What if he did send the wrong one home? What if the girl he picked was putting on a front the whole time?

Obviously, Beckham was stressed.

But shouldn't he be stressed? After all, the Selection was a big deal. It was the first big decision he, the heir to the throne, would have to make. That in itself was scary enough.

He continued the wonder down the hall, somewhat quickly, and after turning a corner he ran straight into a maid, with blonde hair done up in two braids. Beckham made note of this, as one of the braids whacked him in the face as they fell, the maid dropping sheets everywhere.

The maid looked up at whoever had knocked her down, and her pale green eyes widened with fear as they met Beckham's blue ones.

"Your Majesty!" the maid exclaimed. She couldn't have been more than seventeen, with fair skin and sprinkling of freckles over her nose. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I going, I-"

"Don't worry about it," Beckham smirked. "It's my fault anyway."

The maid blushed. "Oh, I, erm," she looked extremely uncomfortable and Beckham realized he was still on top of her. He scrambled to his feet and held out a hand for the maid.

"That's quite all right, sir," the maid said as she began to pick up the sheets. Beckham reached down and grabbed the few near him as the maid stood back up, adjusting the now crumbled pile of sheets.

"Um, here," the prince said, awkwardly placing the sheets on top of the pile. The maid smiled weakly and began to adjust them.

"Thank you, sir," the maid bowed her head. "I must be going now. I'm very sorry for crashing into you," she said. The maid began down the hall again, but Beckham turned to stop her.

"One second, miss," Beckham said, sauntering towards the green-eyed girl. "I don't believe I know your name."

The maid blushed and smiled weakly again. "Um, my name's Isis sir, Isis Elliot. I'll be helping one of the lucky ladies in the Selection in a few days."

"Isis," Beckham tried the sound on his tongue. Exotic, but at the same time simple. He smiled. "I do hope they are nice. I'd hate to see such a friendly maid stuck with an unfriendly girl. I'll see you, Isis Elliot."

Isis smiled. "Thank you, sir. And, if you don't mind me saying so, I think you'll be able to see if she is good, if she is nice. You'll be able to see through the pretty smiles to what's on the inside. I assure you this. Just go with what feels right."

Now it was Beckham's turn to smile. "Why, thank you Isis. You've given me better advice in a few minutes than my sister did in an hour and a half."

"Oh, I'm sorry sir!" Isis said. She curtailed madly, dropping some sheets in the process. She and the Prince bent down to retrieve then at the same moment, causing their heads to bang into each other. They each cried out in pain, Isis recovering quickly and helping the Prince stand up straighter, dropping the remainder of the sheets.

Isis was terrified. "I'm so sorry, sir, I really am. Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry, I can't believe I-"

"I'm fine, Isis, don't worry," Beckham smiled, looking over at the maid. "I'm afraid I may have damaged your lovely face."

Isis turned a light scarlet. "I'm fine as well sir, thank you."

"That's good," Beckham smiled. There was silence for a moment.

"The sheets!"

"Right," Beckham chuckled. "I'll let you, I wouldn't want to cause you any more pain than I already have," he said, pick up a sheet that had landed near him.

Isis stood up, and Beckham placed the sheet on the pile carefully, causing them both to chuckle. "I'm very sorry for disgracing your sister, the Princess' advice, sir."

"Don't be," Beckham said. "Camille's "advice" made my head spin. Yours makes sense. After all, I was able to see the kind and helpful interior under your pretty packaging. I knew you'd help. I'll see you with the girls, Isis."

Isis blushed furiously and curtsied as best she could, with the sheets in her hands. "Thank you sir. I wish you good luck, sir, on finding love."

* * *

**So that was it. There may be more Isis chapters before people are selected. Don't worry, one girl will get the prince, and one girl will get the guard. I can't wait to get your submissions!**

**Now about the chapter. Did it suck? Was it ****suckish? Was it good? Confusing? Flummoned... ing? :). I promise it will pick up, rebel attacks, chick fights, the usual. The others will be MUCH longer, probably around 2,500 words, but this one was like a prologue to kick things off, get the word out.**

**Remember, go to my profile for the form! Enjoy my lovelies, and send me your girls!**

**Til Next Chapter,**

**Jess**


	2. Chapter 2: More Advice

**Wow. I am just amazed at the amount of people who sent in characters, followed, and favorited this story. It just.. wow. I still need lots of girls though, so send them in! I need mean girls, those are key characters. I also need some Plain Janes, and people with normal lives.**

**Please, please, please, _please _respond when I ask you to change something. I can't approve your character until you do. And please copy and paste the from and use it. I'm begging here.**

**I recently noticed I forgot to include province on the form, so if it wan't there please include it. Totally my bad.**

**That's all the rambling for now, so enjoy this chapter, in which I introduce more people!**

* * *

"Beckham? Beckham are you even listening?!"

Beckham shook his head to clear to and looked at his mother, sitting in the chair across from his bed. The queen was wearing a deep purple gown, which popped in the cream and white room. Still, Beckham felt like he couldn't keep his eyes on her.

Queen Adelphe had decided it was her turn to give Beckham Selection advice, but her advice just felt like a rerun of Camille's extravagant disaster. She wasn't making much sense, and kept telling him to "be himself". He was doing the choosing, wasn't he.

"I'm listening, mom," Beckham muttered. It wasn't that he disliked spending time with his mom, but her advice gave him a headache.

"Right," Adelphe continued. "Well, as I was saying, just be yourself, and they'll love you." Adelphe mustered as much motherly sugery-sweetness as she could into that sentence, ending with a smile that was all but genuine. Beckham cringed.

"Okay."

"Sort out the bad ones, not there should be many," Adelphe said. "I was in the room when the drawing some of the round one girls, and that all seemed lovely. But they will draw a few, uh, _snobs_. To make it more interesting for the televised part of it.

"Because making my life harder is _so _entertaining," Beckham rolled his eyes.

Adelpe nodded, lost in thought. "Some of them be really rotten. I knew a girl, a Two, just one caste above me and she treated me like absolute dirt. They put on a front you know. To you they'll be sweet as pie, but as soon as you leave, the claws come out!" She chuckled to herself.

Beckham knew his mom wasn't really speaking to him, but was lost in the glory days of her own selection. "I know."

"And you have to be courteous, Beckham. You'll start out with interviews," Adelphe sighed. "I remember mine with your father. He asked me to stay back in the Women's Room, along with a bunch of other girls. I thought I was going home! But he let me stay," she smiled happily. "He sent home eleven girls that day. You'll probably send less, but you should be careful. Don't want to send the wrong girl home."

"Alright," Beckham said in a bored voice. He'd realized that his mom was lost, and completely unaware of his presence. He leaned against the pole of his canopy bed and kicked his legs up on it.

"The dresses are lovely, oh, and we'll eat with them. They occupy themselves for most of the day. Don't show favoritism though."

"I'll have Kelsey announce it every morning." The position was uncomfortable. He pushed himself forward so his legs were bent and his head was on the bed.

"Especially at the interviews. Make sure you mind your manners."

"I'll throw a pie at Castor then." Beckham was banging his head on the pole.

"You don't want to get eliminated-"

"Mom!" Beckham exclaimed, facing her. "I'm the one picking! I have to love one of them, and she could be a complete fake, not in love with me, or I could send her home on accident," he counted each possibility on his fingers. "I'm not stupid, I know not everyone's entering because they want me. Some want the crown."

Adelphe nodded. "I know. I was in this competition once before Beckham, and don't you forget that."

"How could I?" Beckham muttered.

Adelphe scowled. "This is good advice, Beckham."

"Then tell the girls!" Beckham said, standing up. "I'll see you at dinner." And without another word, Beckham turned and exited the room. He started down the hall, with a purpose and circumspection. He didn't want to run into the maid again. Isabelle? Isla? No, Isis.

All of sudden, Beckham felt pain on his forehead, and he made contact with the floor. Dang, not again. He looked up, expecting to see a panicking maid. But all he saw was a big door... and a familiar brunette head.

"Oh!" Cassia chuckled. "Oh, Beckham, I'm sorry!" She could barely contain her laughter. "Oh my, oh this is priceless. Crap, did I get your head? Mom will kill me if I ding you up. Oh my god, this, this is, oh jeez." Cassia smiled as she pulled him up. "All good?"

Beckham clutched his forehead. "Yeah, I'm all good, Camille," he said woozily.

"Oh no," Cassia looked genuinely worried. "I'm not Camille, Beckham, I'm Cassia. Remember? You're the only one who can tell us apart!"

"I know," Beckham said. "I'm just messing with you."

Cassia swatted his shoulder and scoffed. "Well then! You had me worried!"

"Sorry, Cass, I couldn't resist," Beckham put a hand behind his head and smiled weakly. Cassia rolled her eyes and swatted him again, lightly this time. After a moment she lost the scowl and broke into laughter.

Cassia was Camille's twin sister, but everything Camille was Cassia was not. Camille was ditzy and flighty and unfocused, while Cassia was enthralling, focused, and determined. Camille held grudges forever and a day, while Cassia forgave easily. Camille was immature, and Cassia suited the seventeen years she was nearing. If Beckham needed to talk to anybody, he'd talk to Cassia.

They were nearly identical though, both with brunette ringlet curls and tanned skin from the Angeles sky. Their faces were constructed slightly differently however, and Cassia had big brown eyes to rival Camille's blue ones.

"Whatever. I'm still sorry though," Cassia said.

"Ah, don't worry. It's not the first time today," Beckham said, and when Cassia made a confused face he added: "I ran into a maid today. Just rammed into her coming around the corner. It was kinda funny, she kept blushing."

Cassia looked shocked. "Why?" she asked slowly.

Beckham shrugged. "I kept complementing her, I guess. The poor thing was terrified I'd have her beheaded of something."

"Beckham!" Cassia exclaimed. "The Selection is coming up soon! You can't go flirting with other girls!"

"Complementing," Beckham countered.

Cassia groaned and rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless, you know that right."

"God!" Beckham said, throwing his hands in the air. "C'mon Cass! I need your help here! You're acting like mom and Camille. They both tried to give me "advice" about this that just left me with a headache. Camille just talked in circles and mom seemed to think that_ I _was a Daughter of Illea. I was coming to you for some better advice."

Cassia was touched. "Aw. You're sweet. But shouldn't you ask dad? He actually did this you know."

Beckham snorted. "Me, talk to dad. Yeah, right after Camille finishes a project."

"Beckham," Cassia said seriously. "The admissions close in one week. One week. Tomorrow's Friday, and that means you're going to have to talk to Castor. Kelsey has already started to prepare. And in about one week, you'll have to narrow thirty-five girls down to one. And the only person who knows how to do that is dad. You have to talk to him," she finished, putting her hands on her hips. Beckham knew he'd be giving in soon.

"Can't you advise me, o wise one," Beckham said. "You're a girl."

"Oh, really?" Cassia said in mock surprise. "I hadn't noticed."

Beckham got down on his knees like he was worshipping his sister. "Please help me, o great one! O wise and beautiful and smart and cunning one! O one who is very nice and helpful to her brother. O female-"

"Okay!" Cassia exclaimed. "I'll help you! If you talk to dad afterwards."

"Deal!" Beckham exclaimed, standing up. Cassia laughed at him, and soon he joined in. Once they'd calmed down, Beckham leaned against the wall and asked: "Whatcha got?"

"I'll be your inside man," Cassia said. "I'll spy on them and study them and find out who they are. And then I'll tell you," she said. Cassia crossed her arms, satisfied with herself. "Boom."

"That was your advice!?" Beckham exclaimed. "Cass! I need a little more help than that!"

Cassia shrugged. "I think it'll work. Think about it! I'll help with the whole "mask" thing. You'll have help lowering them and the approval of me on the final girl, which I know you'll crave."

Beckham scoffed. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say."

Cassia beamed. "Great! Now go talk to dad."

"What?" Beckham cried.

"You heard me," Cassia said, and in her mind the argument was over. "I'm giving you help, and now you have to go and talk to dad. That was the deal." She crossed her arms over her lavender gown and dared her brother to challenge her.

Beckham opened his mouth to argue, but closed it as Cassia raised an eyebrow. "Fine. I'll go talk to him."

Cassia sighed. "Beckham, I don't get it. What's your deal with dad?"

Beckham shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it's the way he deals with Ryker, maybe its the way he can't tell you and Camille apart," he said. His voice became louder and more sarcastic with every word. "Maybe it's because he's cold and cruel and probably would have never found anyone if it weren't for the Selection. Maybe-"

"Whoa!" Cassia put her hands up. "I get it. Just, talk to him about it. For me?" Cassia smiled hopefully.

Beckham grunted. "Fine. For you."


	3. Chapter 3: Daddy Issues

**Merp I need more people merp especially mean girls merp I need lots more merp why am I saying merp.**

**But seriously. This can't happen if people don't let it. You have submit characters. Be unique, and don't stop at one. The less OCs I have to add the better.**

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the reviews! They make me smile! I love that you love the names! If yo want to know how to find really cool names for a character, look up Greek names. They're all pretty cool.**

**A review got me thinking, would you like me to close this soon and just put in some OCs? I can.**

**Less bold, more story. Here we are going.**

* * *

Beckham didn't talk to his dad.

He meant to, of course, since one never defies Cassia, but he never really got around to it. Every time he tried, something came up. And things kept coming up for the rest of the week.

Beckham was getting anxious. He really needed some genuine advice, and Camille, Adelphe, and Cassia were no help. Isis' advice had been good, but not enough, and he wasn't asking Ryker, he would be of any help anyway. And that just left King Grayson.

The first time he tried to talk to his dad was after his chat with Cassia. He'd felt her gaze on his all the way to his father's office. He'd been about four feet from the door when it banged open and Ryker stormed out, his crown sitting lopsided on his spiky dark hair, and his suit buttoned incorrectly. Beckham backed into a crier before he was seen.

"Ryker!" Grayson cried. His voice was deep and gruff, and fit his personality perfectly. Grayson was a tall man, stocky and stiff, with gray stubble and his clothes always perfectly straightened. "Ryker!" Grayson grabbed his son's shoulder and spun him around. "Ryker!"

"What?" Ryker snapped. "You weren't done belittling me?"

Grayson steamed. "Maybe you could stop being such a disgrace to this family. I don't think any other prince has ever been arrested before!" he shouted, gripping Ryker's shoulder.

"It's not that big a deal, dad!" Ryker rolled his eyes.

"You have no respect for our title, our status!" Grayson yelled. "You were sited with _rebels. _In Labrador. On a _raid_. People died Ryker, and you were almost killed as well. On top of all that the police thought you were with the rebels. It took me forever to clear your name."

"Just a few politicians were injured dad. They didn't try to hurt me," Ryker explained. "I was with them."

Grayson tightened his grip and Beckham sucked in a breath. He never knew about this. Ryker, with rebels? That made zero sense.

"I know! I had to clear everything up. But why on Earth would you do something like this? Why?" Grayson said. "At least Beckham has sense not to set fire to Provinces!"

"Well it's a good thing Beckham's the oldest, isn't it dad?" Ryker taunted. "What the rebels are doing is right! This caste system, the royalty and the Selection, it's all wrong! It's all bull-"

Grayson raised his hand and Ryker winced and turned his head. Grayson had slapped him. Beckham had seen enough. He carefully slipped away and sprinted down the hallway towards Cassia's room, hoping she'd sympathize.

* * *

"Ryker shouldn't have been speaking like that!" Cassia cried. "Never mind the disgrace, imagine if they'd killed him!"

Beckham was standing in Cassia's room, near her bed, shortly after witnessing the spat between Grayson and Ryker. He come into the room in a frenzy, and Cassia had shooed her maids out in an urgent manner to listen. Her reaction, however, was not as Beckham had hoped.

"Cassia!" Beckham whined. "You're suposed to care! Care about that fact the our father slapped our brother! It doesn't matter what Ryker did, that is serious! Parents shouldn't slap their children!"

Cassia groaned. "Beckham. Ryker was sighted with rebels, which is punishable by death. Ryker's lucky dad saved his butt."

"Ryker's lucky dad _cared_ enough to save his-"

"Moving on," Cassia cut him off. "Did you at least talk to him?"

"I'm not talking to him after that!" Beckham cried. "What if he slaps me? Besides, I don't think it's a good idea to let dad get involved. He'll probably just tell me to marry the girl who's most useful."

Cassia threw her hands in the air. "That's it! I'm done!"

"Cass!" Beckham said. "I need you! I'm all alone here!"

"No," Cassia raised her eyebrow. "You didn't talk to dad. Like I said to. I'll help you as soon as you do." Cassia crossed her arms and Beckham knew he was screwed. He either had to speak with his dad, place trust in his dad, let his dad _influence _him, or not have Cassia's help.

Beckham crossed his arms in return. "Fine. I don't need you. I'll have someone else do it for me."

Cassia laughed. "Who? Camille? Your pretty maid?"

"Shut up, will you?" Beckham huffed. "If I talk to him tomorrow night, will you help me?"

"What's wrong with tonight?" Camille asked.

"I want to give him a day to cool down before I ask for his help," Beckham sat down on Cassia's bed. "I'm going to ask at dinner, because I want witnesses. Okay, O great one?"

Cassia held her poker face for a moment before breaking into a smile. "Okay."

* * *

The royal family had been eating silently for quite a while before Cassia broke the silence.

"So, um, dad," she began.

Grayson looked up from his meal. "Yes, Camille?"

Beckham decided then he wouldn't ask. It was one thing to not be able to tell _identical _twins apart. But Cassia and Camille were frightfully easy to distinguish. Aside from the fact that they were nothing alike and had different facial constructions, Cassia loved the color pink, and wore it frequently, while Camille detested it. Cassia loved her hair down, while Camille enjoyed a fancy updo every day. Camille had blue-gray eyes while Cassia had large, round, brown ones. And Camille would never try to get someone's attention before speaking to them.

Beckham was sick and tired of his father not being able to tell the twins apart. Adelphe usually could, but messed when she was stressed. Ryker never called Cassia, Camille, or Camille, Cassia, but he sometimes forgot their name, and Beckham always knew who was who. But Grayson, Grayson had probably never called Cassia by her name since the day she was born. He'd called her Camille, or Callista, or once Cassiopeia. Cassiopeia. Grayson couldn't remember her _real _name, but he thought to add two extra syllables in the middle.

It infuriated him, and he didn't exactly know why. But those two words sealed the deal, or rather broke his deal with Cassia.

"I'm Cassia, dad," Cassia said slowly. Beside her Camille huffed. Adelphe shot a look at her and Camille rolled her eyes. Adelphe joined Cassia with excuses on Grayson's behalf, but Adelphe refused to see the flaws even Cassia had to admit existed.

"Right. Well go on Cassie," Grayson gestured in her direction and Cassia bit her lip. She hated being called Cassie, and everyone knew it. Everyone except Grayson it seemed.

Cassia took a deep breath. "Beckham has something he needs to speak to you about."

"I think Beckham can speak for himself, right boy?" Grayson patted his son on the back and Beckham smiled weakly.

"Of course," Cassia shot Beckham a look and he shrugged slightly. He wasn't going to ask, and that was it. "He's somewhat nervous. It's an important subject after all. It's about-"

"Why isn't Ryker at the table?" Beckham blurted. Adelphe's eyes widened in both fear and worry. Ryker's, or anyone's, absences from the dinner table were an off limits topic. Beckham had been desperate.

There was silence for a moment. "This is none of your concern, Beckham," Grayson said through clenched teeth.

"Well, it's a _family _dinner, dad," Camille said. "And whether you like it or not Ryker is a part of this family."

"Camille!" Adelphe said. "Your father cares about Ryker very much. He does not wish he wasn't a part of this family, if that's what you're implying." She turned to me. "Ryker isn't feeling well, dear."

Camille snorted. "Yeah right."

Adelphe rose sharply, slamming her hands on the table and staring at Camille with anger in her eyes. "Maybe you should go oversee the packing, young lady. The trip is just around the corner."

"Right," Camille said, standing. "The trip to the Republic of Spain, where I can be forced to marry some guy I've never met." She gestured to Beckham. "You know, Beckham has to pick from the Selected but at least he gets a choice! _I_ want a choice!"

"Actually," Cassia began.

Grayson stood, his chair toppling behind him. "Camille! This is it. In the hall, now." He pointed to the door and Camille sat down with a huff, crossing her arms.

"I'm not leaving," Camille said. "Sorry to ruin your perfect family, _father._"

"Really, Camille, it's no big deal," Cassia started.

"Stop that, Camille!" Adelphe cried. "Stop it! In case you all forgot, it's Friday. Which means we have to go on _The Report_ soon. And we have to try to act like a normal, loving family goddang it!"

Camille snorted. "Maybe we shouldn't go on. I mean, dad will probably tun to me and say 'Well Cassia here'-"

"One more word out of you, young lady, and your not going!" Grayson roared.

Camille shrugged. "I think I'll stay with Ryker in the rejected kids room." She looked at her sister. "Care to join me, Cassia?" Cassia shook her head sharply, pleading in her eyes and Camille exited swiftly, coming back only to grab the chicken leg resting on her plate.

Beckham didn't talk to Cassia much after that either.

* * *

"He called you pretty?" Hunter asked, bouncing on her toes in excitement. Her bright ginger ponytail bounced up and down, and she was smiling giddily. Isis couldn't imagine why she was so excited.

"In passing. It was very nonchalant," Isis tried to tone it down, but there was no stopping Hunter now.

"Oh!" She squealed. "You should enter! Are we allowed to enter?"

Isis shook her head. "I don't think so. And besides, if anyone should enter it's you."

Hunter waved her hand and tutted. "No, no, no. I'm not pretty like you Isis. And," Hunter looked around suspiciously. "I don't think he goes for soulless girls. Not his style."

Isis swatted her on the shoulder, then turned back to the tub where she was washing the sheets. "Stop it! You're much more unique. He probably _digs_ redheads."

"Thanks," Hunter said sarcastically. "So, what are you going to do?"

Isis shrugged. "Not enter. I don't want this. Besides, aren't we both already assigned to a girl's room?"

"I'm not," Hunter said. "They haven't gotten all the way to thirty-five yet. There's still one more week, so they've only chosen the first round. The Queen needed something, and I saw them draw someone. You're way prettier."

"It's random Hunter," Isis said dismissively. "They just choose random girls."

Hunter shook her head. "They read through each application, and right now they're picking round one. They'll pick round two on Wednesday, and then replace some of round one with them. They'll do the same thing on Friday, right before the report."

"And you know this how?" Isis said, turning to face her friend.

"I told you. I had to deliver something to the Queen while they were in there drawing. Then I might have," she hesitated. "_Lingered _by the door for a bit."

Isis swatted her shoulder again and Hunter cried out in pain. "Hunter! You can't do stuff like that! You could have gotten caught, maybe demoted. You could have become a Seven or Eight because of your curiosity."

"It's not big deal Isis," Hunter assured her. "I didn't get caught, and now you know how it works."

"Still not entering."

"Dang."

* * *

**Sorry it took so long, I'm working on my Wattpad account as well. I hope I have enough girls soon! Remember tell me if ****you like me to close this soon and just put in some OCs? I can.**

**If you loved it, review.**

**If you hated it, review.**

**If you like cheese, eat some after you review!**

**Much love,**

**Jess**


	4. Chapter 4: Pic Switch

**Hello!**

**First of all, can I just say: THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! You will not believe how happy I get when I get that email.**

**Second of all, I looked at what you guys said about closing it, and I've decided this: this SYOC will close either when I hit fifteen girls, or in one week. The reason? As of right now I'm at thirteen which means three girls will not get to be an Elite while the others will. so fifteen means five won't, which is more fair. All submitted girls will make it to the top, until the Elite are chosen. Promise.**

**Third of all, I really need those mean girls guys. Mean girls actually have a better chance of making it into the Elite, and I have ****_one._**** I would love at least three.**

**Fourth of all, I'm really happy you like the plot. I wanted this to be more unique, so I thought "hey, why don't I add some behind the scenes chaos". After all, who knows what goes on after the cameras are turned off?**

**Fifth of all, I just want to say that the reason I take so long to update is I am working on another story on Wattpad, so I'm running a bit behind**

**Sixth of all, This is a short chapter. I just needed to get it up.**

**Seventh of all, I'll stop now, so you can get on the non-bold story part. Enjoy my lovelies!**

* * *

"Hello Illea!" Castor cried. He let out a brief chuckle as he bowed for an imaginary crowd. Beckham thought the man was insane. But the royal family was required to appear today, as the selected would be announced in one week.

The royal family, minus Camille and Ryker, took their seats by Castor. Beckham attempted to sit as far away from Castor as he could, but Grayson sat down there instead, shooting Beckham a stern glare.

"Ha ha!" Castor exclaimed, taking his seat. He turned his attention to the royals, and placed both hands on the arm of his chair. "Hello, your majesties," he said, bowing in his seat. Adelphe chuckled and waved dismissively, Grayson sat up straighter, Cassia blushed, and Beckham nodded at him.

"So," Castor continued. "We seem to be missing a few members of the family. Where are Princess Camille and Prince Ryker tonight?"

"They're sick, the poor dears," Adelphe lied. She cast the camera a pitiful glance, and then looked back a Castor. Beckham rolled his eyes, and Cassia swatted his arm.

Castor chuckled. "Pity. Well, at least the man of the hour is here. Prince Beckham?"

Beckham looked up and at Castor. "Hm?"

"How do you feel right now?" asked Castor. "Confused? Nervous? Scared? The Selection is tough boy, tough. You do have to find the future queen of Illea out of those girls."

"A little nervous, I guess," Beckham said. "I guess I have to do what's best for Illea, and that could be tough."

"It could," Castor agreed. He let out a hearty laugh and patted the prince on the back. "But of course you'll do fine, Mr. Future King of Illea! Your father must have given you tons of advice by now."

Beckham looked at Cassia out of the corner of his eye. She wasn't smirking, as he would have guessed, but instead she was playing with her hands in her lap. Beckham though for a moment on how to answer. If he said no, that might look bad. If he said yes, he'd be lying.

"Oh yeah," Beckham lied. "_Tons_." If his parents could lie through their teeth to the entire country, then so could he. Beckham could feel his father's angry gaze behind him, but he did not turn around.

"Wonderful!" Castor smiled. "Well, that's all the time we have today, but I will see you all next Friday, when we finally introduce the thirty-five Selected! I cannot wait to see the Prince's reaction, how about you folks!"

* * *

"Hunter," Isis called softly. Isis had to be silent, if they were caught...

There! A flash of red hair, ducking around the corner. Isis followed as quickly and quietly as she could, but upon turning the corner she discovered nothing. No perky redheads to be found.

"Hunter!" Isis hissed. Hunter giggled softly and came out from behind a table. Isis let out a sigh of relief. "Hunter, what are you doing?"

"Having some fun!" Hunter whispered, the biggest smile Isis had ever seen on her face. "This will be priceless! Just think of how they'll react when we switch the Selected."

"They'll kill us, Hunter." Isis said. "Literately. It's treason."

Hunter's smile deflated and turned into a frown. "I did not think this through," she said. She looked up at her friend. "Well, can we at least look?" she asked innocently, and without another word the redheaded girl turned and sped around the corner.

"Hunter," Isis said slowly. "Hunter, no, Hunter! No!"

Isis followed her friend, trying to remain as quiet as possible. She made her way around the corner and down the hall to were Hunter was fiddling with a doorknob. No, picking a lock.

"Hunter!" Isis snapped. "Cut it out!"

Hunter fiddled with the lock until it click, and then she turned to Isis with her hand on the lock. "Isis Marie Elliot. The final thirty-five selected are in this room, and you expect me not to look?"

"Yes!" Isis said. "Mainly because it's illegal!"

Hunter tutted. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Silly girl," she smiled and pulled open the door, slipping inside

"Hunter, Hunter!" Isis said. "Hunter, oh my god." Isis caught the door and walked inside. Hunter was already at the table, the lamp illuminating the thousands of pictures of girls, and the thirty five that had been selected. Hunter was going through the selected, her face showing varying degrees of disgust for each one.

"Oh, she's awful!" Hunter exclaimed, holding up a picture of a gorgeous girl with wavy blonde hair. She had shocking blue eyes and had her perfect nose held high and a smirk on her face.

Isis stormed over, casting looks over her shoulder. "Hunter! That's rude. I'm sure she's very nice."

"Sure," Hunter said skeptically. "Marilyn Desoux, Ottaro. Speaks six languages, plays five instruments, has relations in New Asia and Swendway, and she donates much of her time to charities. Wow. That's a lot for a Five."

"Hunter!" Isis said, coming over to look at the paper. "I think that's a two."

Hunter snorted. "Please. She's lying about half of this."

"They'll find out," Isis said dismissively. "Now come on, lets go."

"I can't let this happen," Hunter said shaking her head. She put Marilyn's picture in the rejected pile and picked up the alternates pile, and shifted through that. "This one's terrible too!" she said, holding the alternate Ottaro girl. "Gimme the Otarro pile."

"Hunter," Isis said.

"Give it!" Hunter said, holding out her hand. Isis sighed and handed it to her. "Gracias, amiga," she said, going through that pile. "Oh! I like her!" she said, holding up a picture of a girl with light blonde hair and hazel eyes and a big smile on her face. The girl was pretty, but also very plain. "Hannah Davis, Three, she's an active member of two charities, speaks Spanish, and is managing a small business. She's great!"

"And she was rejected, Hunter," Isis said. "Put it back."

"Sorry Marilyn, but Ottaro has a new champion," Hunter said. She placed the picture of Hannah on the selected pile.

"Hunter, no," Isis said, rummaging through the Ottaro pile. "Where is it? Where is it?"

Suddenly there was a loud noise out side the door, the two girls jumped, shared a look, and ran. Hunter seemed to have pushed the incident from her mind, but Isis couldn't sleep that night. She was terrified of what would happen if they were found out.


	5. Chapter 5: Lists and Orders

**And BOOM goes the dynamite cuz holy crap I've actually hit twenty people wow. Wow. This will be the last chapter before the Selected are announced, and then ANNOUNCEMENT! YAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!**

**I have a headache from all that cheering. Okay. That's enough pep for one day. I'll leave that to Hunter.**

**So if it wasn't clear, this SYOC is now closed. Very sorry if you're sad, YAY if you're happy.**

**There is an irritating list thing here, with the final list of the selected. To everyone who was told that they had an alternate spot, it has been filled. I will give your characters cameos.**

**People who submitted after the closing! Thank you! But I cannot accept. However, they can make cameos as maids or rebels or something.**

**Enough blabbing. Chappie time!**

* * *

Wind blew through the open window, causing the curtains to float up and down as if held by strings. There was little light illuminating the small room, just a sliver of moonlight dancing in and giving the place a silver tint. The room was small, and crummy, just an old wooden bed and a few other necessities. The walls were the simple wood from when they were build, and the only thing on the rotting bed frame was an old mattress and a red quilt. And a blonde girl.

But the girl wasn't sleeping.

Isis Elliot couldn't sleep. She was terrified. She'd been lying awake for hours, and she knew she'd be groggy in the morning but she just couldn't fall asleep. Her stomach felt like someone had dropped a bowling ball on it. Every time she closed her eyes she saw nightmares that were to close to reality for comfort. Hunter would be killed if they were found out. Isis would be considered lucky if she was merely caned and cast out.

So there she lay, worrying. Hunter was probably sound asleep, without a care in the world. The problem with Hunter was that she never cared. Was it for the better? Maybe.

Isis knew she'd be walking on eggshells throughout the Selection. What if Hunter had gotten rid of Beckham's soul mate? Now they'd never know. Ottaro was sending Hannah Davis instead of the selected Marilyn Desoux. Every time she saw Hannah, well Isis would probably die. If she were assigned to her...

There were horrors ahead, this Isis knew, but whether or not she'd be able to deal... now that was the mystery.

* * *

"Isis. Isis. Isis!" Hunter cried, shaking her friend by the shoulders.

"Huh, what?" Isis said groggily, rubbing her eyes and yawning. "What is it Hunter?"

Hunter let out a tiny laugh. "The list is up. The assignments. Ingrid just told me," she said. Isis ignored her and yawned and Hunter rolled her eyes. "Little piece of paper? Hopefully both our names on it? We are assigned to girls?"

Isis yawned again as she nodded. "I know, I know. C'mon."

The two girls made their way down the hall, yawns continuing to escape from the blonde's mouth. She stumbled a few times, her ginger friend giggling and leading her along.

A little over a dozen maids were already crowded around the slip of paper tacked to the wall. The crowd dispersed steadily, some maids leaving disappointed, some content, and a few even smiling. The lower the caste, the better. Twos and Threes usually were used to ordering around maids, while Fives and Sixes were more understanding.

Isis and Hunter slipped through the throng, approaching the list. There were a lot of maids that were needed, so the crowd was quite large. And unlucky girl could get moved to the kitchens, or be told to be a seamstress to handle the extra thirty-five people. A slightly more lucky girl could be assigned to Women's Room duty, and their sole task to wait on the girls all day. Serving a Selected was like a hierarchy bonus. You were deemed attractive enough to be in their presence.

"Yes!" a maid in front of them, Phoebe, Pumped her fist in the air. "I got the Six!"

"There's a Six?" another maid, Cleo, asked. She peeked at the list. "Oh yeah. Bethany Dawes, Six, Whites. Yeesh. Whites is harsh for a lower caste. She'll be tough. Lucky," Cleo snorted. "Who'd I get?"

"Um," Hunter helped her scan the list. "Oh! There you are, uh, Della Easton from Calgary. Oh, she's a _Two_," Hunter pulled a face and looked at Cleo, who scowled.

Phoebe snorted as Cleo huffed. "Great. Phoebe gets a Six from Whites and I get a prissy Two. Look who's lucky ladies!" Cleo said in a sarcastic voice. Phoebe and Hunter burst into laughter, and Isis let out a small giggle.

"Can you guys move it? The rest of us need to look," a maid said from behind them.

"One second! Isis and I need to look," Hunter said. She stepped back and motioned for Isis to look first. Isis snickered as she stepped forward, scanning the list for her name. "Who'd you get?"

"Meliza Hocher. Four," Isis said "Four's aren't bad. And look," Isis lowered her voice. "You don't have Hannah. You look,". She stepped back so Hunter could look. Hunter nearly pushed her over trying to get to the list. She scanned it, the hopeful look on her face diminishing as it traveled down the list. Then she froze.

Hunter took a deep breath. "I'm, I'm general Women's Room help."

"Tough luck ginger," the maid from behind said. "Now move."

Isis, Cleo, Phoebe, and Hunter moved to the side, Hunter still in a daze. Cleo put on hand on her shoulder in a weak attempt to console her. None of them knew what to say. Women's room help was an insult of sorts, almost as bad as being moved to the kitchens.

"At least it's not a Two," Cleo tried.

"Lower castes usually go first. I'll be with you in no time," Phoebe said with a smile.

"When out girls go home, we might have to go back to regular duties. At least you're assigned," Isis said with a smile. "I mean, you don't have to be taken off until the end."

Another maid ran by, coming to a stop in front of them. Her golden blonde hair falling out of it's bun, and she appeared to be out of breath. "Am I late? Did they take the list down?"

Isis shook her head, another yawn escaping. "No."

The maid sighed in relief. "Okay. Good," she ran to the list and scanned it, returning to the group immediately after. "Meliza Hocher," she said with a big smile on her face.

Isis nodded once, still absorbed in Hunter's problem and also still only half awake. "Cool," she said. Isis shook her head to clear it and processed what the girl had said. "Oh, I'm assigned to her too."

"Awesome!" the blonde girl said. "Are you Isis or Molly?"

"Isis."

The blonde beamed and stuck out her hand. "I'm Colleen," she said. Isis eyed her suspiciously, and Colleen moved her hand to her head, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry. I'm new here. Just started a few days ago. Like, I've lived here my whole life, but they just moved me from the kitchens. That's so nice of them, isn't it?"

"Totally," Cleo said sarcastically. Phoebe swatted her in the ribs.

Colleen nodded. "I feel like I owe them one now."

Hunter, who had remained completely silent until this point, spoke bitterly. "They deserve no respect."

Colleen looked like someone had hit her. "They did something very nice for me. I am going to show them respect."

"Well isn't that dandy?" Hunter said, stepping forward. Isis, Phoebe, and Cleo took a step away from her, but Colleen didn't seem fazed. She looked the redheaded girl right in the eye as she spoke, despite, the fact that Hunter was nearly a head taller. "They let the new girl be a room maid, but the girl who's been a maid for three years get's _Women's Room attendant._

"Yeah, they did," Colleen said. "Got a problem with that?"

"I do, I really do," Hunter said, stepping forward. Isis grabbed her arm, muttering "okay, let's go" under her breath, and lead Hunter away from Colleen. Cleo and Phoebe looked shocked, but quickly walked away.

Isis pulled Hunter around the corner, resisting a yawn and trying very hard to stay alert. Or at least awake. "What is your problem?" she snapped.

Hunter rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, looking down at Isis. "I'm not the one with the problem. She's the one who had to get all in my face about the stupid respect thing.

"No," Isis hissed. "You got in her face. There is absolutely no reason for you to be acting like this Hunter! I get that you are upset and all, but seriously? Some girls were moved to the kitchens, or given seamstress jobs. Be grateful that you have a maid job."

"Well-" Hunter began.

"And," Isis continued. "You get to meet all thirty-five girls, which is pretty awesome. Girls from all the provinces, you get to hear about what it's like in the other thirty-three you haven't lived in. You don't get stuck with one girl, and you aren't screwed if one's mean, because there will be others."

Hunter didn't speak for a moment. "It's just insulting, that's all."

Isis nodded. "I get it. Now, I have to go to the briefing. What time is it?"

Hunter looked at a clock behind Isis. "Nine thirty-four."

"Eleven minutes," Isis said. "I'd better hurry."

Isis took off down the hall walking as quickly as she could. The briefing was in the Women's Room, nearly on the other side of the castle and being late was not an option. Isis looked at every clock along the way, counting down the minutes she had left. Nine. Seven. Six. Four-

Bam! Isis collided with someone and feel back into the wall. She felt a sharp pain on the back of her head and she rubbed it with her hand, looking up to see who'd hit her.

"Your Majesty!" she exclaimed, standing as quickly as she could. Isis winced sharply as the pain in her head increased, but tried hard to ignore it. The prince was rubbing his forehead, but stopped when Isis winced.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Isis nodded, which lead to more pain and another sharp hiss. "No you're not alright, we need to get you too the infirmary," Beckham said, placing a hand on her back and leading Isis down the hall.

Isis finally processed what was happening, and she quickly stepped away from the prince and bowed her head. "Prince Beckham! I'm very sorry, I can't believe this happened-"

"Wait a second," Beckham cut her off. "Aren't you the maid I ran into before? Isis?"

Isis nodded, a small smile forming on her face and her cheeks glowing red. "Yes sir. I'm very sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Beckham said. "It's my fault."

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Isis looked at a nearby clock. Three minutes until the briefing began. "I really must be going, your majesty, I'm very sorry, I have the-" Isis winced again as a fresh stab of pain hit her head.

"You aren't going anywhere but the infirmary," Beckham said. He began leading her down the hall again.

"But, sir, the briefing," Isis began. She was extremely uncomfortable.

"I'll arrange for a private one for you, Miss. Isis," Beckham said. "This is more important."

Beckham lead Isis down the hall and into the infirmary, where he had Isis sit on one of the beds. He spoke to a nurse for a moment, and she returned with a small pill, a glass of water, and an ice pack. Isis swallowed the pill, a painkiller, an pressed the icepack to her head. The nurse returned to her duties as Beckham came and sat down across from Isis.

"If I recall correctly, you gave me some lovely advice," Beckham said.

Isis blushed. "I wouldn't call it "lovely" sir. I'm not that great."

"Sure you are!" Beckham exclaimed. "My mother and Camille gave me advice that made my life even harder. Cassia wouldn't even give me advice, which is odd for Cassia," Beckham sighed. "You remind me of Cassia."

Isis's cheeks darkened and she smiled. "Why thank you, sir, but all I said was-"

"What you said was more than anyone else had bothered to say," Beckham said. "It was of more use anyway. But that isn't the point. I need your help with a little _project_."

"What kind of project?" Isis asked.

Beckham smiled. "While she neglected to give me any advice, Cassia did promise to be my sort of... _spy_. She'd scope out the girls, tell me who was putting on a front, who provoked who, who was genuinely nice, ect."

"Where do I come in, sir?" Isis asked hesitantly.

"Due to events I'd rather not speak of, Cassia can no longer fulfill this duty," Beckham said. "That's where you come in. I want you to be my spy."

"Me?" Isis said, forgetting herself. "I can't do this! I'm, I'm not very good at this," she lied. "Besides, I'm a maid for a girl, so I'd only ever see her. Maybe a Women's Room Attendant would be a better choice?"

"I'll have you moved to Women's Room Attendant if your girl is eliminated," Beckham said nonchalantly.

Isis was at a loss for words. This was not the best idea, she was not the best choice, between Hannah and... well her other situation. Then again, this could be perfect... and risky.

"I don't think I'm the best choice for this sir," Isis said. "Why not have Princess Camille do it? Or Prince Ryker?"

Beckham shook his head. "No. Camille and Ryker are dealing with something right now. I like you, Isis Elliot. I don't know why, but I trust you. I think you can do this and I want you to do this."

Isis was still hesitant. "But, your majesty-"

"This is not a request, Miss. Elliot, this is an order," Beckham said, standing. "Now, you rest up, and I'll send someone to get you for your private briefing. Come see me in my room right after, and I'll prepare you for your task."

And with that the prince turned and left, leaving Isis at a loss for words.

* * *

**So here's the final list of people!**

**The list will be on every chapter from here out, and when someone is eliminated it will say eliminated by their name. The * means they are created by me.**

1. Allens- Rhea Washington (3)*

2. Angeles- Sofia Billings (2)

3. Atlin- Colette Maycourt (3)*

4. Baffin- Omega Rayez (4)*

5. Bankston- Drew Bonde (5)*

6. Belcourt- Aislin Mays (4)

7. Bonita- Aphrodite Costa (2)

8. Calgary- Della Easton (2)

9. Carolina- Renia Hallingsworth (2)

10. Clermont- Amarlissa Williams (2)

11. Columbia- Erica Beliza (2)

12. Dakota- Hadley Grae (4)

13. Denbeigh- Abigail Darling (3)

14. Dominica- Gwendolyn Clancy (5)

15. Fennley- Dakota Warren (4)

16. Hansport- Cressida Markowski (3)*

17. Honduragua- Bianca Rodriguez (2)

18. Hundson- Leona Jeric (3)*

19. Kent- Lyli Hollingsworth (4)

20. Labrador- Philomena Boss (3)*

21. Lakedon- Raissa Lewis (3)*

22. Likely- Jayne Foscher (2)

23. Midston- Kaia Marcus (5)*

24. Ottaro- Hannah Davis (3)

25. Paloma- Rilane Speciale (3)

26. Panama- Helen Germis (4)*

27. Sonage- Evangeline Camiko (4)*

28. Sota- Callidora McPhee (5)*

29. St. George- Savannah Konstantin (5)

30. Sumner- Kennedy Reigns (2)

31. Tammins- Meliza Hocher (4)*

32. Waverly- Ivory Walsh (3)

33. Whites- Bethany Dawes (6)

34. Yukon- Candace Michael (3)*

35. Zuni- Demetria Vespucy (3)*


End file.
